Classless Clerics

— Hieronymus Wierix, mid 16th century

Last week, Prismatic Wasteland issued an emergency blog bandwagon challenge. Now the sun has risen on the Vatican, and the time to post has come.

The Cleric Class

I don’t care for the D&D cleric. While that’s not the focus of this post, I’ve summarized my complaints to provide context for why I’m exploring an alternative approach. For a thorough critique of religion in D&D and derivative games, see the Practical Polytheism series at A Collection of Unmitigated Pedantry.

Fungible Deities

In old-school editions of D&D, all clerics have access to turn undead and the same spells. More recent editions introduced domains and thematic Channel Divinity options, but in typical D&D fashion the burden of making worshipping one deity versus another meaningful falls mostly on the DM.

B/X did offer some guidance to DMs on making a character’s deity matter:

It is very important for clerics to be faithful to the beliefs of their religion and alignment. Should a cleric behave in a manner that is not pleasing to his or her deity, the deity may become angered and punish the offender. This punishment could take many forms; some examples are a -1 penalty on “to hit” rolls, sending the cleric on a dangerous quest, or refusing to give the cleric any spells at all! The DM may decide what the punishment might be in such a case. To regain the favor of the deity, a cleric might find it wise to donate money and magic items to the religion, build a church or temple, gain large numbers of converts, or defeat some great foe of the religion. (p. X7)

I don’t love the reliance on DM fiat here, but hey, at least it’s something. Later editions toned down this language, and then 5th edition excised it entirely:

“The cleric receives his spells as insight directly from his deity […] so he must take care not to abuse his power lest it be taken away as punishment.” (AD&D 2e, p. 33)

“A cleric who grossly violates the code of conduct required by his god […] loses all spells and class features […] He cannot thereafter gain levels as a cleric of that god until he atones.” (D&D 3.5e, p. 33).

“As a cleric, your deity does not directly grant you powers. Instead, your ordination or investiture as a cleric grants you the ability to wield divine powers. […] What you do with your powers once you are ordained is up to you, although if you flagrantly and openly defy your deity’s tenets, you quickly earn the enmity of the faithful.” (D&D 4e, p. 61).

One True God Among Many

In the implied setting of D&D, many deities objectively exist, and yet a cleric devotes themselves entirely to one. As Dr. Devereaux points out, that’s not how polytheism works: “Because many gods can produce practical results for you – both good and bad! – you cannot pick and choose, but must venerate many of the relevant gods.”

The standard approach to religion in D&D isn’t just a bit silly, it’s also boring. Faction play wouldn’t be interesting if the party could simply serve one faction and ignore all the others. Why should deities be any different? Characters should be incentivized to interact with many deities, and doing so will not only challenge the players but also enrich the game world. I find ancient Greek mythology inspiring because of the gods’ human characteristics: they’re jealous, capricious, circumspect, conniving, and petty in turn. Navigating conflicting interests and strong personalities is an engaging challenge.

Punitive, Not Proactive

In my view, the advancement system in D&D also diminishes the cleric’s potential. Because the cleric advances just like any other class—by accumulating wealth or slaying monsters—the diegetic connection between a character’s deeds and the favor bestowed upon them by their deity is tenuous at best. Milestone leveling and a focus on pious deeds can alleviate this problem somewhat, but again, that’s just more work for the DM.

I dislike that progression as a cleric is so passive and disconnected from piety, ritual, and the actual practice of religion. To make matters worse, impiety results in the least interesting consequence possible: a timeout. Pissing off a god should yield consequences that are interesting, lasting, and potentially calamitous.

Diegesis & Design Goals

In fairness, many of my criticisms of the cleric boil down to “it’s a D&D class.” My journey into the NSR has been defined by an ever-greater preference for classless systems with diegetic advancement. That said, here’s what I want from divine magic in an NSR game:

• Characters accumulate power proactively through acts of piety and by advancing deities’ agendas.
• Characters can (and should) serve multiple deities and call upon them in turn as the situation demands.
• Deities harbor conflicting agendas and demand specific rituals and practices.
• Invoking a deity’s power is uncertain and risky. The more disfavor a character has incurred, the greater the chances of disaster; the greater the power sought, the more calamitous the consequences of repudiation.

Favor & Disfavor

In service of these goals, I’d implement something like a reputation table. This would require infrequent but extensive bookkeeping. Each time a character earns favor or incurs disfavor from a deity, they note it down on a 1d20 table specific to that deity. The first favor entry corresponds with 20, and subsequent entries descend, whereas the first disfavor entry corresponds with 1, and subsequent entries ascend. Significant sources of favor or disfavor may occupy multiple entries on the table.

A character might earn favor by restoring a shrine, punishing heretics, advancing the deity’s agenda, etc. A character might incur disfavor by stealing a relic, violating a taboo, harming a favored being, etc.

When a character attempts to invoke a deity’s power, the player of that character rolls 1d20. If the result corresponds to a favorable entry, the desired effect comes to pass. If the result corresponds to an unfavorable entry, the deity punishes the character in accordance with the boldness of their entreaty. If the result corresponds to a blank entry, the deity ignores the appeal and all subsequent appeals for some duration.

The player may negotiate with the referee to trade position for effect and vice versa, à la Blades in the Dark.

An Example

Cyril and his companions are being pursued through a barley field by mounted knights. Knowing they have no hope of evading their pursuers, a panicked Cyril entreaties the sun goddess Helica to shine searing rays upon the field, catching it alight and encircling the knights in a ring of fire and smoke. Cyril’s favor table looks like this:

Outcome #1

The referee reasons that the desired effect qualifies as standard due to the significant favor Cyril has earned in the eyes of Helica. The player portraying Cyril accepts standard risk and effect and rolls a 15. A ring of fire leaps up around the knights, thwarting their pursuit. However, Cyril incurs disfavor with Bardos, god of hearth and harvest, for burning the wheat.

Outcome #2

The player portraying Cyril accepts standard risk and effect and rolls a nine. Helica ignores Cyril’s plea and all subsequent entreaties for one fortnight.

Outcome #3

Desperate, the player portraying Cyril seeks an amplified effect: he seeks not only to corral the knights but to incinerate them in the ensuing blaze. The player rolls a three. Helica repudiates Cyril: the sun glares off the armor of the approaching knights, scorching his eyes. Cyril is stricken blind.

Conclusion

That’s it—no classes, no levels, no spell lists. Such a freeform procedure won’t suit some groups, and the bookkeeping involved may prove cumbersome, but I’m eager to give it a try nonetheless.

Another possibility would be to introduce advantage and disadvantage as a third lever. For example, a player might accept a diminished effect in exchange for advantage on their role, while another may risk a roll at disadvantage to mitigate the consequences of repudiation.